


Now You'll Never be Lonely

by FelicityGS



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityGS/pseuds/FelicityGS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Against his better judgement, Steve decides to set the new waiter at his diner up with his best friend and roommate. After all, he hasn't seen Tony smile that way at someone in nearly a decade and he really doesn't love Tony that much, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is an AU-verse. It does have slash, Pepper and Natasha are in an already established relationship. I'm not really going to touch on them and their relationship to Loki so much in this fic, as I have plans to cover that elsewhere. 
> 
> WARNINGS: past abusive relationship, drug use

**Chapter 1**  
Natasha pinned the phone to her ear while she rolled out another sheet of dough, listening to it ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Steve, it's Natasha. How's life on your end of the city?"

"It's good. Yourself?"

"Pretty well. Hey, you still looking for a waiter to help with the holidays?"

"Yes, you know someone?"

"Yeah. He's a baker here, has been wanting a change of pace and to get up front. He can work late nights. He can work any time really. He's a hard worker, and he's very good with people."

"Sure, I can see him. Tomorrow afternoon, say three?"

"I'll let him know. Thanks Steve, you're a sweetheart."

Steve laughed. "Coming from you that means a lot, Natasha. Talk to you later."

Natasha flipped the phone shut and went back to her pastries.

XXXXX

"Hey, Loki." She toed the lump on the living room floor when she got home, ignored the syringe on the table. A bit of black hair was sticking out from underneath the quilt. "Couldn't even make it onto the couch?" She reached down and pulled the quilt back. Loki blinked at her blearily. She frowned at him, but could already tell it wasn't going to do much to get him up, so she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and heaved him up.

Loki made a sort of grunt noise and she didn't even bother wondering how much he'd had, just pulled him along and threw him in the shower, turned it on cold, him fully dressed. He shrieked like a little girl, which got her to smirk.

"You _witch_ ," Loki shrieked, shivering violently.

"You've got an interview at three p.m. tomorrow. Try to be sober."

"What?" He blinked, and she just used a foot to push him back into the shower when he tried to get out. "Are you _firing_ me? Natasha!"

"You need a change. Meet new people. It'll be good for you."

"I don't even know where this interview is!"

"Steve's diner. Across town. We've gone before. I know Steve, I vouched for you." She took her foot off him and leaned in close, ignoring getting hit by some of the water and giving her best glare. "Don't fuck up."

She turned around and left the bathroom, closing the door behind herself.

XXXXX

It had finally quieted down a bit at the diner and Steve surveyed the few lunch rush stragglers before ducking into his office to try and sort through more paperwork. The kitchen could handle itself for a little while yet and it seemed like there were always prep lists to write and paperwork to process. He was barely paying attention when one of the waiters knocked on his door.

"Steve? Some guy here, says he's got an interview?"

Steve blinked, and looked over at the clock. Three already? He sighed and tried to straighten up some. At least his chef whites were still white today.

"Go ahead and send him in."

He hadn't really been sure what to expect based off the short conversation with Natasha, but the whipcord thin young man who came in wasn't it. He had a coat and scarf over one arm, and as Steve got up to shake his hand, he noted that he had a strong grip despite looking like a stiff breeze might knock him over.

"Loki Odinson." His voice was polite, clipped with an accent Steve couldn't immediately place.

"Steve Rogers. Please, sit down."

Loki handed him a copy of his resume before he sat, settling his coat and scarf on the arm of the chair. Steve gave it a quick look-over, even though Natasha had emailed it to him that morning. He'd been working at Natasha's bakery for nearly two years now, which was good (even if Steve was hiring for the holidays, he wasn't opposed to keeping the man if he could work). Not to mention Natasha was a slave driver—Steve knew, he'd worked with her briefly at another restaurant, before he opened the diner and she opened her bakery.

They talked, Steve pushed him to find out how soon he could work (apparently as soon as Steve would want, and he didn't think it was desperation that made him say that so much as not wanting to sit around doing nothing), when he could work (and he verified that he could work most hours, but preferred the evening and closing with its busy rush), and just tried to size him up. He was very good at not mentioning anything extra that Steve didn't ask, he had a good smile, and it was clear he was willing to work.

Steve checked to make sure his number was on the resume and sent Loki out, told him he'd let him know. Loki walked out, and Steve followed, watched him from the doorway as Loki stood outside in the early November snow putting his coat on and it was sealed. Without anyone watching him, Loki just looked… lost. Lost and scared and hurting with an almost violent pride and anger Steve couldn't place at first even though it seemed familiar.

He knew he was a sucker for someone who needed help and needed to get away, and the kid had good references besides just Natasha. Why not?

XXXXXX

It's five minutes until closing and Loki will admit (privately) that maybe Natasha was right and he _had_ needed the change. Waiting is a different dance than the occasional customer interaction after being up since midnight baking, and he genuinely likes people. He especially enjoys the table with kids, who varied from shyly smiling at him to wide-eyed grins. It made him wish he'd finished college (not a first (he'd been so _close_ )), but he'd settle for this.

In any case, it's five minutes till close and he's ready to go, antsy to get home and relax and drag out the needle (never mind Natasha's glare as she heads out the door to go to work), when this guy who he vaguely recognizes in a 'seen on a magazine once maybe?' way walks in and he almost groans because he's the last waiter and it's just him and Steve and one other guy and he was so _ready_ to go home.

But he puts on his best smile for the guy, who eyes him appraisingly with honey-brown eyes and slides into a booth like he owns the joint.

"Coffee, and not the decaf. Mm, and a waffle, Steve knows how I like them," before Loki had even has a chance to open his mouth.

"Do you need a side order of entitlement to go with that, or are you covered?" Loki snarks before he can help himself, but he tries to grin so that it doesn't seem quite so sharp. The man raises an eyebrow and grins at him, and Loki suddenly realizes this is Stark, Toby or Tony or Kelly or something, darling engineer of Valhalla Industries.

"No, but I could go for a spot of cattiness instead of cream." Maybe-Toby smirks, as if he knows how insufferable he's being and he appreciates Loki's calling him on it.

Loki tells Steve about the order, and Steve just shakes his head, muttering something about _he could wait till we go home_ , and grabs a cup of coffee. It's the end of the night coffee, and _Loki_ wouldn't drink it unless he was so far out of his mind on drugs he didn't recognize what it was. He doesn't bother to get sugar—maybe-Kelly hadn't said he wanted any—and sets it on the table.

"Coffee. Cattiness is extra charge," he says. "And you don't seem like you need sugar."

"Aw, now aren't you something. I can't tell if you're saying I'm too bitter to appreciate sugar or if you think I'm sweet enough as is." Tony takes an appreciative sip of what can only be called coffee sludge at this point. "Where's the smile and name, or is that extra too? I've got money to burn if that's what it takes."

"Smiles are extra, but my name is Loki."

"You must have got beat up as a kid. Well, Loki, I'm sure I need no introduction."

"As the person who walked in right before shift end and demands to be fed? You're right, I don't need one; you lot are a dime a dozen and workers everywhere know you as 'great, it's that asshole.'"

Tony put a hand to his heart, looking theatrically hurt, and Loki can't help the touch of a smile that curves his lips. This is certainly not the worst last customer he's ever dealt with.

"I hope this isn't how you talk to all our customers, or I might be worried." Steve's voice is quietly stern but he's trying to hold back a smile. He's got a plate of waffles, and Loki notices almost immediately something a little dark and jealous in his boss' eyes and mentally backs the hell off. "Tony, stop flirting with the new hire."

"But _Mooooom_ ," Tony whines as Steve puts the waffles in front of him. He starts to eat and points his fork at Loki. "And if _he's_ the new hire, you should keep him. Easy on the eyes and doesn't lay back and take it." Tony waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Loki.

"And wouldn't you like to know," Loki can't help but respond. He blames the want of drug that's had him itching to leave.

Steve just shakes his head, like he's used to dealing with Tony's man-child ways and the response it gets. "You can head home, Loki. I'll finish up here."

"You sure?" he asks, even though he's ready to bolt.

"Hey, why does he get the soft, polite eyes and I just get vicious sarcasm?" They both ignore Tony.

"Yes. See you tomorrow."

"You're the boss," Loki says amiably, and then he's gone, out the back to grab his coat and dart into the snow outside


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just sort setyouuponadatewithLoki. And I'm holding dinner hostage until you agree to go."
> 
> "You did what?"

**Chapter 2**  
Things have lulled and Steve isn't going to be cooking; he's in the office strictly for paperwork and to make sure that everything is running smoothly before he heads off to check out a new potential supplier. He spots Loki going by with drinks for the back of house, and he can hear them goofing off. Everyone seems to like the new waiter; he remembers the way Tony had smiled at him again.

"Loki, come here for a second," he calls when Loki is on his way back to the front.

Loki steps into his office, and Steve catches just the tiniest deer-in-the-headlights look, but it's already gone. Loki is all smooth confidence and wit; not for the first time he wonders why Loki isn't fresh out of college and making headlines.

"Close the door, would you?"

Loki does and crosses his arms loosely. It's the only indicator Steve gets that he's nervous.

"So, what did you think of Tony?" he asks, trying for nonchalance. Loki just blinks at him, clearly confused; not that Steve could blame him, this is a total set-up for getting fired or written up. "He was in here the other night?"

Loki licks his lips, obviously trying to remember who Steve is talking about and coming up blank. Steve nearly laughs but he manages to keep it to himself; it's like he's found the only person who _doesn't_ immediately know who Tony is.

"He was the one who came in five before close," he prods.

"Oh! Him. I thought his name was Toby or Kelly or something," and Steve has to suppress his laughter again. "He was okay, I suppose. A bit of a smart ass."

"Yeah? Would you want to see him again? Maybe dinner?" Steve realizes how awkward it sounds, and tries to very firmly remind himself of Tony's smile when he was talking to Loki that night. This will be good for Tony, going out with someone for a date and not just to get in their bed.

"Do I just scream 'fag' or something?" Loki sounds honestly amused, not offended, and for that Steve is pretty grateful. Doesn't stop his face from going entirely red. And his neck. And his ears.

"No, not that at all, I just. Um. Well. You two seemed to, you know, hit it off well. Just trying to help him out a little, he's my best friend."

"Ah." Loki has this strange expression on his face Steve isn't sure he's ever seen anyone with. He doesn't even know how to begin to read it.

"Not that. Look. This just sounds terrible. I'm not going to…. You don't have to do this if you don't want." Steve sighs.

Loki gives this elegant little shrug, lithe and serpentine, and grins his wide and devious grin that gets all the his straight female customers swooning and buying little extras he recommends. "Sure. It could be fun."

Then the hostess is yelling, trying to find Loki and Loki's out of his office before he can even respond. Steve wonders if maybe this is as good an idea as he thinks.

XXXXXX

Tony has his nose in the fridge, trying to figure out how to make himself food since Steve isn't here. He's also debating if a bottle of scotch and box of poptarts might be a better dinner when he hears the front door open.

"Steve!" he says brightly, racing out of the kitchen to greet his best friend with the biggest smile he can.

"Tony," Steve says, ignoring his clearly charming smile and heading past him. Tony edges so that he is in the man's way and tries to turn the charm up even more.

"How was your day?" he asks, rather magnanimously.

"Good." Steve has stopped to look at him.

"You eaten yet? I was _just_ going to make dinner." He thumbs back towards the kitchen.

Steve sighs, and rubs his head. "I think you mean burn down the house. I'll make us something."

"Are you sure, I mean, I'm sure I could whip us up somethi—"

"Tony, the last time you tried to 'make us something' you burned half the kitchen, ruined my favourite pan, and caught your hair on fire. You don't have to pretend, I can cook. Otherwise you'll end up eating poptarts and drinking scotch again." Steve doesn't even look at him as he goes by and starts to pull things down from the cabinets and out of the fridge.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault!" He follows Steve into the kitchen. "And I was _not_ going to eat poptarts and drink scotch again." Steve stops what he's doing to pointedly raise an eyebrow. "Uh. Thanks. You're the best, Steve!"

Steve just shakes his head.

"So, uh, I'll just get out of your way here and let you work your magic…." Tony starts to edge out of the kitchen. He might not be able to cook, but that has never stopped Steve from delegating vegetable chopping to him. He suspects his buddy has been in restaurants too long and is just used to other people prepping his stuff now.

"No." Steve turns suddenly, and Tony _really_ doesn't like that awkward and 'just had an idea' look in his friend's eye. Or the knife pointing at him. Steve seems to realize the knife pointing thing and lowers it. "I, uh, need to tell you something."

Tony really, _really_ hopes Steve just picked up a puppy.

"You, erm. You've got an appointment at six on Friday." Steve is getting slowly redder in the face. It's really quite fascinating. "At the little Japanese restaurant you like."

"Oh. Dude. If you needed me to do a business meeting or whatever you could have just said so." Tony frowns at Steve; Steve is usually awkward getting Tony's help with things relating to the diner, but he's never been such a particular shade of scarlet before.

Steve turns around to go back to chopping vegetables before he says anything else. It's almost not audible, but Tony is ready to swear he hears the words 'date' and 'waiter.'

"Steve…" Tony says cautiously, rooted to the spot in the doorway by some horrid fascination.

"I just sort setyouuponadatewithLoki. And I'm holding dinner hostage until you agree to go."

"You did _what_?"

"I uh," Steve stops chopping again, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down awkwardly, "set you up. With a date. That waiter at the diner, Loki, you really hit it off with him and I thought that it'd been a while since you went on an actual _date_ and not just dragged a warm body home for a one night stand, so I got him to agree to go on a date with you."

Tony tries to say something. A few times.

"And you can't have dinner unless you promise you'll go. Or scotch. I've got it locked up in my room." Steve points the knife at Tony again, this time with some actual menace.

"You… you…." Tony sputters. He thought Steve didn't a sly bone in his body. And looking at his buddy, at how red he is and yet how absolutely determined and serious, he can't help but laugh a little at the whole absurd situation. "Okay. Okay. I'll go, if it means that much to you. I won't even make him cry."

XXXXXX

Tony hadn't _really_ been hoping for a freak snowstorm Friday. He was honestly really okay with the lightly falling snow when he walked up to the Japanese restaurant. He totally was _not_ resenting Steve a bit for this. He didn't need a date or to get out like a normal person because he happened to to to be _sarcastic_ at one of Steve's waiters.

Tony is not grumbling to himself when he steps into the restaurant and rakes his eyes over the company in the waiting area. The waiter— _Loki,_ he reminds himself because he promised Steve he won't make him cry—is already here. Tony stops grumbling for a moment and just admires the view.

Loki is standing by the medium sized rock pool set up inside and filled with fishes and a rogue turtle, and while Tony _generally_ prefers a woman in a low cut dress, Loki is certainly not a bad thing to find instead. His black hair is slicked back and curling slightly at his neck and ears. He's wearing a deep forest green shirt that made his skin look like ivory and a pair of black jeans. The lighting cast more shadows on his face and just emphasizes how sharp his features are. When he looks up and spots Tony, the barest hint of a smirk touches his features and Tony decides maybe this isn't going to be as much a chore as he thought.

Tony moves over to him, holds his hand out. "Tony Stark," he says and tries not kick himself, because Loki _knows_ who he was, everyone did.

"Loki Odinson," the other says, letting the silence settle. Tony tells the host the name for the reservation—Steve's—and tries not to fidget while they wait, glancing at Loki.

"So, _Tony_ ," and it seemed there was a joke in there Tony is missing, "does your friend often make it a habit to set up you with new employees as some sort of hazing rite?"

"What, you think this is _normal_ for me?" Tony laughs and it is _not_ nervous at all, thank you very much. "And _you_ agreed to go along with it."

"Well, of course," Loki says, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and gives Tony this wide-eyed innocent and absolutely _devastating_ look. "You mean your boss doesn't just randomly ask you to go on dates with customers you don't even know the name of and you spoke to for all of five minutes?"

Tony just looks at him, and then Loki's face changes again, this tiny little smirk he can't suppress flicking across his features.

"So long as we've got the _awkward_ out of the way," Tony says, but he can't help but grin as he did.

XXXXXX

"Toby? Kelly? Really?" Tony is laughing, and Loki grins at him over his glass of plum wine.

"Really. I was three-quarters right, at least. And as you were the one making fun of _my_ name—"

"I did not, I just said that you probably got teased a lot!"

Loki raises an eyebrow like Tony just proved his point.

"Well, okay, names aside, what exactly is it you _do_?" Loki asks, pushing onward.

"You really don't know?"

"You play with machines for a company most my family works at, but I'm not going to internet stalk my date. Have some _class_." Loki looks offended.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, you get what I do. That's it, really, they just pay me lots of money to make really interesting machines and go hog—" Tony stopped, blinking. "Wait. What's your last name again?"

Loki rolls his eyes.

"Is that really all that important?"

"I'll just ask Steve," Tony says petulantly.

"Mmm, yes, go ask Steve. What is that weird _thing_ between you two anyway?" Loki raises an eyebrow, chopsticks poised to take the last piece of sushi and clearly waiting to see if Tony wanted it. Tony flicks a hand to indicate 'go ahead.'

"There's not a _thing_. He's just my best friend of forever and we just moved in together after his wife died and my girlfriend ditched. Strength in numbers." Tony does _not_ sound bitter. Loki doesn't even _react_ to the bitter, so it clearly isn't there, and besides, it's more interesting to watch the way the muscles in Loki's wrist move as he flicks the sushi into his mouth.

XXXXXX

It is still snowing when they go outside, big and fat heavy flakes that are Loki's favourite. They remind him of the snow globes that his mother liked to collect, all shaken up. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his wool coat, and looks at Tony in the street light. When they'd started, Tony had looked the picture of presentable, but now he looks scruffy and like he's been to a wild party, hair going every which way; he likes to talk with his hands and runs them through his hair while he thinks. Loki kind of likes how he looks now more.

It is more honest.

"So…" Tony starts, and Loki feels a little nervousness tighten his features. He makes himself smirk.

"So?"

"That was nice."

"I would be inclined to agree." He keeps his voice neutral.

"Wanna do something again?"

Loki frowns before he can catch himself, licking his lips. He looks at the ground because he doesn't want to look at Tony, his chest tight and his head getting light. He wonders a little if Tony is just interested because of his looks—what he has of them—or if he actually _enjoyed_ this little excursion.

"Not that we have to. You know. I just thought it was nice. Steve might not be totally wrong sometimes." He recognizes the way Tony is talking more and faster—he used to do it, too, before he stopped because it got him in more trouble. He glances up at Tony briefly, and lets out a breath.

"And what would we do?" he hedges.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe something you'd want?" Something of the panic of _choosing_ must have shown on his face, because Tony just keeps going quickly, too quickly for it to be obliviousness. "The zoo! There's a zoo at the park. We could go. It's supposed to be sunny all week. How's whatever day you have off?"

"Tuesday." Hope sparks in Tony's eyes, and he realizes what it sounded like. Well, it won't hurt. He _has_ enjoyed himself, even if he's been on pins and needles all night, waiting on the slip that will irritate Tony and make him leave or yell or kill the conversation. "Around three, I usually get up late. Does that work?"

Tony grins at him with something in that million watt smile that makes Loki smile back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Date. But don't call it that to Steve. He'll just get all proud and his big blue eyes will get all glimmery and I would not be able to keep this dashing physique with the tons of pastries that would appear in our house."
> 
> "I take it you are all about your seconds then?"
> 
> "Not unless it's really good." He winks at Loki and can't help his grin getting bigger when he sees the faint flush spread across those sharp cheekbones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: past abusive relationship, drug use

**Chapter 3**  
They are meeting at the zoo entrance and for the first time in a long time Tony isn't purposefully late to a date. In fact, he's early. With how hesitant Loki had been about going out again, he doesn't want to give the guy any excuse to ditch.

He glances at his watch for what feels like the billionth time and tries to keep himself from pacing. It's five past three. _Five more minutes_ , he tells himself firmly, one finger tapping the center of his chest. _Five more minutes_ , _then I'll leave_.

"Stark, do you always scowl so intensely when you are alone in public?"

"Most the time, keeps the paparazzi away when they think I'll test out new toys on them." Tony turns, grinning at Loki. He sweeps his eyes over the younger man, not letting his smile falter as he takes in Loki's appearance. "You usually late to everything?"

"I overslept. I apologize."

"Yeah? Well how bout that. I can tell Steve that I waited for someone for once. Come on." He starts walking towards the ticket booth, keeping an eye on how fast Loki walks.

Loki looks… sick. Well, more like death is debating giving him a personal visit. His paleness is more sallow than ivory, and he doesn't have that same cat-like grace to his movement. His nose is running a bit, though he apparently came armed with tissues in one of his coat pockets. He is wearing his usual coat, but Tony can catch a glimpse of a sweater underneath. Loki is still shivering a bit despite the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Tony buys two tickets. Loki looks annoyed about it but Tony just waves it off.

"My treat. You look like you need one." Loki's eyes just narrow at the comment. "Hey, don't get upset. You didn't have to come you know."

"And have you moon to Steve and Steve give me the most disappointed look he can manage? Thank you, but no. And _no_ , I'm not calling Steve to tell him I can't meet his best friend for another… _thing_." Loki licks his lips.

"Hey, I'm hurt. You don't want to call this a date? That's what this is, isn't it?"

"You tell me," Loki says, raising an eyebrow. Tony rolls his eyes, putting one of his arms through Loki's. He feels Loki stiffen but ignores it.

"Date. But don't call it that to Steve. He'll just get all proud and his big blue eyes will get all glimmery and I would _not_ be able to keep this dashing physique with the tons of pastries that would appear in our house."

"I take it you are all about your seconds then?"

"Not unless it's _really_ good." He winks at Loki and can't help his grin getting bigger when he sees the faint flush spread across those sharp cheekbones.

XXXXXX

"Hey, what do _you_ like anyway? You haven't really pointed out any animal that is your favourite."

Loki blinks, coming out of his daze, meeting Tony's honey-brown eyes. He isn't expecting the question; Natasha knows and he generally doesn't meet new people. Well, people outside of work, people who would _want_ to know that sort of thing about him. He licks his lips, feeling a bit of trepidation. He doesn't really want Tony to look disappointed or disgusted or some manner of negative when it didn't meet Tony's expectations or perfectly line up with what Tony likes.

 _Don't be so afraid all the time. Not everyone is like him. I promise_.

"Panthers." He clears his throat a little, sniffling and wishing his nose would stop running and everything stop aching and the sunlight stop being so bright reflected off the snow. "Panthers. And wolves are alright too."

"Yeah, you would like those, wouldn't you. Panthers especially. You look a bit like one, you know. Black hair and bright green eyes and all lithe like." Loki blinks. Is Tony… _flirting_ with him? Again? Tony isn't even looking at him as he says it, eyes watching the penguin display.

 _Probably just second nature_ , Loki thinks to himself firmly and tries to get through his headache so he can actually be in this moment.

"You hungry?"

The mere mention of food makes his stomach churn and him feel like he might vomit. Again.

"Considering how green you just got, I take that to be 'no.' Let's get hot chocolate then."

"Alright." Loki follows in Tony's wake, pulled along by their entwined hands. "You _are not_ buying this for me as well. I am perfectly capable of buying things. I have a job as well, even if it does not involve 'playing with machine guts' as you so eloquently described it."

"Fine, fine." Tony holds up his other hand in defeat and grins at him. "You can buy me a hot chocolate, too, so that you can maintain your sense of independence."

Loki snorts, but they find the concession stand easily enough. The hand that had been laced in Tony's is warm, but it's his right hand, his off hand. His left is freezing despite being shoved in his coat pocket, and he trembles a little anyway when he reaches into his wallet to hand over the cash for the chocolates. Tony isn't really paying attention, talking about something to do with how penguins regulate their body temperature. A couple of the quarters fall, and Loki tries not to swear as they hit the pavement and clatter, remembering the _last_ time he'd paid for something in cash with someone there— _Clint—_ and he just sort of shrinks back into himself and tries to brace for the inevitable shouting or silence or biting comment or _something_.

Tony doesn't even stop talking ("It's kind of interesting really, if you think about it. It's been ages since anyone's paid in cash around me, but anyway, ton of the nervous system is there in your spine, and a black back just makes it so they can warm up that much faster"), just reaches down and grabs the quarters and hands them to the cashier, his own hot chocolate already in hand. He stops when he realizes Loki isn't moving. Loki forces himself to shove his wallet back in his pocket and grab his chocolate and move, even though he can't _understand_ what is happening.

Tony hadn't even noticed.

And Tony has his fingers laced in Loki's again, Loki's right, Tony's left, sipping his hot chocolate, pulling him to go see the large cats (because he loves the large cats, especially the cougars) like Loki being clumsy and slowing everyone down isn't even worth commenting on.

"Hey," Tony says, and Loki snaps his attention to Tony's face, lined with concern and a certain tenderness Loki isn't sure he's seen before. "You okay?"

"I am… fine. Tired is all. Clumsy." He mentions it because he isn't sure that he believes that he's not getting passive aggressively (or aggressively, sometimes Clint wasn't picky) tormented for the coin thing. And Tony just smiles at him, not one that shows all his teeth but a small one, more of a quirk of the lips.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you're sick. You wanna go?" Loki tries not to stare, so he looks at whatever animal they're at now, the lions.

"No." And he means it. He squeezes Tony's hand a little more tightly because this is the nicest he's felt in a long, long time.

XXXXXX

Tony is relieved to see Loki looking the picture of nearly perfect health when he walks into the art museum for their next not-date date. He really hadn't looked all that good when they'd been at the zoo, and he'd been worried all week that Loki was worse (because he _was_ not going to ask Steve and even though they had swapped numbers he would also _not_ frivolously text Loki to see if he was feeling better).

Art museums are really not Tony's place, but he suggested it because something about Loki makes him think the guy really digs art. And apparently there is some major gallery moving through and besides, he got free tickets from work because apparently Odin, allfather of Valhalla Industries and guy who basically made sure Tony had plenty of things to play with, has sponsored the show or made some donation or something. Tony doesn't really know or care.

"Steve will be most impressed when you brag about being on time twice in a row," Loki quips when they start to wander through the hallways.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. See if I'm on time _next_ time," and Tony almost swallows his own tongue because he realizes he really _would_ like there to be a next time. Loki is looking at him kind of funny, so he quickly added on. "I should get to make fun of _you_ , not the other way around. You're the one who was late last time."

"I was sick!"

"Yeah, you hide behind your excuses. You were _late_ , I figured you might be again, so that's why I just walked in instead of being early. I'm a busy busy guy, you should be glad I manage to sneak out of work."

"You snuck out of work? Tony!" But Loki's eyes glimmer in approval.

"Course I did, I have a date with a very charming guy. Had to make sure you weren't sick."

"You could have called. Or texted. You _do_ have my number now."

"You could have updated me with a 'I'm not dead!', but you didn't. I thought it was just in case one of us was running late or needed to cancel."

Loki just rolls his eyes.

At first, Tony asks him questions about things, and he tries to pretend he is interested in the art, he _really_ does, but it all looks kind of the same to him. But it doesn't to Loki because Loki's eyes flick over some pieces and at others he stops and just stares and gets close to the canvas as if he can grasp something evanescent if he just looks hard enough. Loki doesn't even seem to notice the silence that settles down, comfortable as a blanket and hot cocoa on a cold night. Tony is okay with that—it gives him a chance to just watch, because if the art isn't great, the way Loki's face moves and expresses and shows what he is thinking while he is wrapped up in studying the art is. Tony hadn't even known a face could _be_ so expressive before today.

He can get to like art, he thinks, or at least what comes with it.

So they wander through the museum, and Tony just keeps his fingers laced in Loki's hand and sometimes he feels a little bored, but then Loki stops to stare at something else. Loki glances up and meets his gaze once and blinks, suddenly torn out of wherever he goes, his face closing off and Tony wants to _despair_ because that just isn't _fair_ at all, but he just makes himself grin at Loki.

"You're bored," Loki says.

"Eh, maybe a little. Art isn't really my thing."

"Then why are we here? You picked it out!"

"I thought you'd like it."

Loki gets that weird look on his face again, the same one he had at the zoo after they got the hot chocolate. Tony frowns at him, trying to figure that look out and what it means, but he has never been very good at understanding emotions. Other than these little incidental things he's seeing out now, he doesn't really know enough about Loki to even start to guess.

"Let's do something else. You are bored."

They head back to the entrance and are greeted by a _fantastically_ thick snowstorm. It's falling so tightly and fast there was no visibility past a few feet, and already piling up faster than plows could get to it.

"Looks like we're trapped for a while," Tony points out, hoping this means Loki will go back to looking at art and Tony can go back to watching that infinitely changing face. Loki just looks at him like he isn't being bold enough with one of those perfect eyebrows raised.

"There's an ice cream shop just down the street."

"You want ice cream. In this weather." Tony points outside the glass doors of the museum, where snow falls like it might not get a chance to any other day of the year. "We'll get lost."

Loki grins at him.

"Your age is showing," and then his hand slips out of Tony's and he runs into the snow laughing and Tony swears, looks apologetically at the startled looking old couple that has been watching them and bursts out into the snow after Loki, trying to get his coat on at the same time because it's _cold._

"Loki, _dammit_ , you little weasel, I am _not old_ , get _back here_ ," he yells, nearly falling on his face in the fresh snow, and Loki is ahead of him stumbling and fumbling in the snow too, still laughing, looking over his shoulder and his wide green eyes flash and sparkle making Tony weak in the knees. Tony can't help but laugh too, and he manages to catch up to Loki right as Loki rounds the corner to the ice cream shop, tackles him into the brick wall, and they're both laughing and trying not to fall, cheeks flushed. Tony looks into those beautiful eyes as they sparkle and he can't help it.

He kisses him.

Loki tastes like green apples and anise and something a little dark that Tony can't place, his mouth soft and warm. It's a soft kiss, because Tony doesn't want to hurt him or scare him off and this doesn't _feel_ like something that's going to be over tomorrow or if he blinks wrong anymore and that's _wonderful_. And Loki's responding, wrapping his arms around Tony's neck and drawing him in and Tony thinks he might drown, right here and now, and that's pretty much as good as (if not better than) what he's discovered comes with art.

Tony pulls away, because he needs to breathe (Loki probably does too) and Loki gives him this ravishing grin before kissing him again, quick and soft before pulling away.

"Um," Tony says because he is _always_ eloquent.

Loki just arches an eyebrow at him.

"Want some ice cream?"

Loki laughs


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hello," she said, mentally bracing herself for the shattered mess she usually got when Loki would actually call instead of text.
> 
> "Nataaaashaaaaa, oh my god, you are a witch, aren't you, you knew, that's why, you really are a witch."
> 
> Natasha blinked. Loki sounded… bubbly? She wasn't sure she could reconcile this with what she knew of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: drug use, past abusive relationship

**Chapter 4**  
Natasha was about to leave when her phone rang and she seriously considered ignoring it. It had been a long day at the bakery, one of those everything that could go wrong had gone wrong sort of days, and at the moment she just wanted to go over to Pepper's, have a few shots of vodka, and curl up with her girlfriend for a nap. The sound of Tartini was making her feel a little guilty; she sighed and pulled the phone out anyway.

It was Loki's ring tone and he didn't usually call for without reason.

"Hello," she said, mentally bracing herself for the shattered mess she usually got when Loki would actually call instead of text.

"Nataaaashaaaaa, oh my god, you are _a witch_ , aren't you, you _knew_ , that's why, _you really are a witch_."

Natasha blinked. Loki sounded… bubbly? She wasn't sure she could reconcile this with what she knew of him.

"Loki?"

"I mean I always sort of _knew_ because you're so mean and you like girls and only witches like girls, but you _knew_ , how did you know, it was amazing and I've had the best afternoon ever and it's all going to _break_ and you have to be the meanest nicest person I've ever known in my entire life, oh my goooood Natashaaaaaaa—"

Natasha pulled the phone away from her ear, Loki still bubbling and rambling without any input from her whatsoever. She stared at it, trying to decide if Loki was fucking with her.

This was more worrying than if he had called her and been a shattered mess.

"Loki," she interrupted as she put the phone back to her ear. He was stifling his giggles, trying to be quiet for her and she decided she was certainly _not_ going to Pepper's after all.

"Yes?" he bubbled over the phone, a new burst of giggles erupting.

"Nothing. I'll be home soon. Try not to eat all the sweets. And keep your hands off my ice cream."

"Yes, Natasha." A pause. "We have _ice cream_ , oh my god, we have _ice cream_!" and the phone went dead.

XXXXXX

"Yeah. I'll try and stop by later tonight. Sorry, Pepper. No, I don't—okay, okay, I'll call you if I need any help with him." Natasha hung up the phone and stared at her apartment door. She wasn't sure what to expect; she had never really dealt with Loki after his addiction started when he was _happy_ like this. Hell, if she was honest, she had never dealt with Loki _happy_. She could faintly make out the sound of something on the other side.

She opened the door and was nearly deafened by the sounds of…. _My Little Pony_? The new cartoon. She hadn't even thought Loki knew what it _was_ , he barely watched any television.

But he clearly had, because he was reciting word for word with Flutteryshy's lines, almost at the exact same time (Pepper liked the show, and she was a good defense so Natasha could keep her tough-girl cred). There were blankets all over the place, Loki in nothing but his favourite pajama pants, and he had devoured the last of the cookies and cream ice cream and was starting in on Natasha's rocky road. And had apparently eaten the last of the ice cream sandwiches.

He looked up as Natasha comes in, face utterly transformed from it's usually sly and reserved mask to something full-blown wild and happy, eyes sparkling and pupils expanded wide so she almost can't see the irises.

"The witch!" he cried, surging to his feet and embracing Natasha in a hug so tight she almost couldn't breath. And then he kissed her, full on the mouth, his hands cupping her face. Natasha jerked and slammed a hand into his chest, making him fall over the arm of the couch. And he just laid there on the couch, one hand rubbing where she'd hit him, and he laughed and laughed and laughed.

Natasha closed and locked the door because while Loki clearly wasn't interested in leaving but she'd still like to be safe. She started gathering up blankets over Loki's protests of her destroying his blanket fort ("Loki, they are laying on the ground, this is not a blanket fort" and Loki looked at her like he might burst into tears so she let him keep that one blanket he had grabbed) and peeked in the kitchen as she walked back towards the linen closet. There were bowls covered in chocolate and butter and several pans that had probably had something on or in them at one point, and there was a broken egg on the ground and flour and she just gritted her teeth and tried to appreciate the fact that he wasn't just sleeping and being aimless and miserable for once. The oven dinged and Loki shrieked like a kid on Christmas morning (" _Brownies!_ "), vaulting over the couch, falling, and then darting into the kitchen.

"Hey Pepper. Yeah. That would be fantastic." Spotting the syringe on the coffee table, she grabbed it to toss it out.

XXXXXX

Between the two of them, Natasha and Pepper had managed to get the apartment back into some semblance of order. They both were considering him critically, though Pepper seemed a little more sympathetic. Loki was only half on the couch, head resting in Pepper's lap and he was drooling, phone clutched in one hand. They'd switched _My Little Pony_ out for _The Lakehouse_ and Natasha had her arm around Pepper's shoulders.

"Tony, huh?"

"That's what the calender said."

Natasha knows not to pry about Tony; even all this time later (and it's been nearly a decade, which blows her mind some days). They'd all been young and dumb and trying to sort things out then, and Pepper had _really_ wanted Tony to be The One. Not that Natasha minded it didn't work out that way, because she's got Pepper now, vibrant and fiery and sensible, but Pepper still gets a bit melancholy about Tony, still cares about him and laments how he doesn't fight for anything.

So they just sit there, Pepper running her fingers through Loki's hair, Loki drooling, Natasha holding Pepper against herself.

"So why does he always call you a witch?" Pepper asks, and Natasha smiles a little because she knows what Pepper is really doing is asking to think of something else.

"It's a joke. We met at a coven meeting, when I was still into that sort of thing. I think he believes it when he's like this." She uses her other hand to gently brush Loki's hair, then twine her fingers in Pepper's hand.

"You think he's changed?" Pepper sounds wistful.

"If he hasn't, then I'll break him in half. I mean, have you ever seen Loki like this? He probably hasn't been since before…." Natasha trails off and swallows back the hint of anger that still likes to rise up when she thinks about a year ago, Loki weeping and crying and bleeding and bruised and begging her not to take him to the hospital, that he's _fine_ , really, he just needs somewhere to rest. Pepper squeezes her hand, drawing her back, and Natasha lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Since before Clint," Pepper finishes for her.

They both nearly jump out of their skin when Loki's phone goes off, Loki stirring and blinking blearily, looking absolutely confused at the noise the phone is making in his hand. Natasha swears a bit and plucks it out of his hand— _Anthony Stark_ , the screen reads, and Loki _would_ program it in with Tony's full name—and thinks about not answering it. Pepper glances to see who it is and grabs it from her before she can kill the call.

"Hi, Tony."

Natasha just raises a brow at Pepper. Pepper ignores it. Loki perks up a bit (or about as much as he's capable without cold water and Natasha's foot in his back) when he hears the name, watching Pepper. Natasha can just _see_ him slowly putting together that the thing Pepper has to her ear is a phone and that she's talking to someone else on the other end.

"No, he lives with Natasha, I was helping her clean up—ah!"

Loki snags the phone clumsily, and Natasha lets him, because Tony is calling for Loki anyway right? Besides, it's funny, watching how Pepper glares at Loki and he just lays his head on her lap again, utterly oblivious.

"Tony?" he slurs, sounding drowsy and sleepy, his eyes starting to drift closed again now that he's comfortable again. "Mmm, no, 's okay. Didn't? Mmm." There's a little bit of a smile playing over his lips, and Natasha swears right then that if Tony hurts Loki she's going to show him all the different ways a body can break. "You want me to pick? Aandaleeb. What d'you mean you've never been, it's amaaaaazing. Indian. You wanted me to pick, so there. Saturday? Mmm. Okay. Bye."

He tosses the phone in the floor without hanging it up and goes back to sleep, that smile still playing over his features.

"Did he just…?"

"Yes."

"He _never_ picks."

"I know." Natasha can't stop grinning.

XXXXXX

Loki picks a lot that month. Tony insists.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's why Pepper left, you always want the worst thing you can find and take it and fuck the rest!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: past abusive relationship, drug use

**Chapter 5**  
"Night, guys."

"Night, Steve. Catch you in the morning." Tony grinned and waved and Steve smiled a bit. Loki was watching him with this odd little expression, like he knew something was up, and Steve made a shooing motion with his hands for them to go so he could lock up the diner.

He looked up before he headed over to his car, and tried very hard to ignore the pang of jealousy as he watched them walk towards Tony's favourite bar. They were leaned together close, hands clasped together, and the wind carried the sound of them laughing.

This was good. Tony was happy.

He wasn't jealous at all.

XXXXXX

"Just because I happen to like men _does not_ mean that I only drink cocktails," Loki said, pointing his finger in Tony's face so that he went cross-eyed. His voice was incredibly clipped and precise, his face flush with booze.

"Settle, settle, I never ever said that. Or suggested that y'do." Tony pushed the finger out of his face. "Just thought you might like it. To try it. Yeah? If you don't, then _I'll_ drink it, I don't think my masculinity is being threatened because I happen to like men and cocktails."

Loki turned the most interesting shade of red, stuttering and glaring and grabbed the cocktail out of Tony's hand and drained half of it one one go.

"Oh," the younger man said, blinking, "that _is_ nice."

Tony smirked.

XXXXXX

Steve browsed through the liquor cabinet, sorted past the six different scotches Tony seemed to think he must have at all times otherwise the world would end (heaven forbid), and finally found the single bottle of bourbon that hadn't been touched in quite some time. It wasn't open (Tony didn't care for bourbon even if Steve did), and it had been a gift from a fellow chef at a Christmas party a year ago. He twisted it open deftly, and poured it into an empty lowball glass.

He didn't particularly like his bourbon on the rocks.

He took the glass and bottle with him to the couch, flipped on the television, and started sorting through the somewhat massive collection of movies Tony had managed to get loaded on the digital movie library. He took another sip of the bourbon, enjoying how it bit the back of his throat.

This was completely normal, drinking, enjoying a movie. Almost peaceful, having the house to himself and not having to wonder about who Tony had in his bed for once.

( _Just who was with him at the bar, green eyes and a quick wit_ )

XXXXXX

"I wish it was warm," Loki said idly, running his finger around the rim of his glass. He let his eyes roam over the inside of the dark bar—more pub than bar really—licking lips that felt a little numb. Everything was buzzing ever so pleasantly, and when he turned his head a little the world took a second to slide with him.

"Yeah?" Tony's voice was husky, burned by the scotch he was drinking, and it made Loki want to squirm in his seat. Loki looked at him, met honey-brown eyes staring at him intently over the rim of a glass. He started with a bit of a jolt, tried to remember what he had been saying.

"Yes. We could go outside. Warm summer night, maybe leave town and find a field and lie and watch the stars. I like stars." Loki looked at his drink, some fizzy cocktail that Tony had insisted he try after the third (or was it forth?) of the other he'd been… not tricked, _goaded_ , yes, _goaded_ into drinking.

"You're pretty drunk now, aren't you?"

Loki stiffened, looking up and mouth tightening. Tony's eyes were just curious, soft and curious and warm. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease a little, but tried to stay haughty.

"Why do you say that?"

"You don't usually talk about what you want to do. Or what you like, for that matter."

Loki tried to convey his displeasure through narrowed eyes. Tony just laughed at him, reaching over and taking one of his hands. He moved his thumb in small circles on the back of Loki's hand. Loki tried to convince himself it was all the alcohol that made a surge of warmth shoot up his arm.

"It is not very important."

"Isn't it, though?"

"What?"

Tony shifted on his bar stool so he was facing Loki, the hand he'd been using to hold his glass gently grasping Loki's chin and pulling it so Loki can't help but look at Tony. He closes his eyes in petulance, but this is… not bad. Tony's touch is soft, his finger tips roughened with callouses from years of working with and inside machines, and there's a certain surety that he usually conveys in words that is still there, in his touch, that Loki finds to be deeply comforting and arousing and so many other things that he doesn't have words for right now.

"Loki," and his name is little more than a whisper, "look at me."

"No."

"Please?"

Loki frowns and opens his eyes and entirely loses what rebellion he had. Tony is _right there_ and Loki wants to count all the different shades of honey he can see flecking his eyes. He's close enough he could.

"It is important. I want to know…" Tony pauses, eyes darting over Loki's face, "I want to take you apart and put you back together and see what makes you tick, I want to know what you love and hate and what you love to hate." Tony's words are spilling over themselves, tripping and slipping and Loki can't believe that he's saying them. "I want to know your favourite colour and what you look like when you wake up in the morning, what you wear when you're alone and don't have to go out, I want to watch you when you're absorbed in art and seeing something that I'm too blind to see. I want to know your favourite foods and movies and positions. I want to know _everything_."

Loki can barely hear for his heart thundering in his chest. He can't breath. It's too warm in here, too dark and smoky, and he manages to get off the bar stool, the room only spins a little and his knees only nearly give out. He pushes himself out the door and into the snow and cold, finds the wall with his fingertips and leans against it. There's painful laughter bubbling in his throat as he leans his head against the wall. He hears the door open, the sudden rush of warmth and light spilling over the snow, and there's Tony again, face worried, with both their coats.

Tony moves a bit closer, like he's afraid he's going to spook Loki even more, and Loki has to gasp because the laughter is stuck in his chest.

"You'll leave," he says.

"Not today, or tomorrow. Learning all that would take a while." Tony sounds so… _reasonable_ about what he's saying, what he's asking Loki to give him, eyes serious.

"You don't want to know all that."

Tony steps a little closer, frowning slightly, a tiny crease on his forehead. "But I do."

Loki tries to process. It's really all a bit much.

"Loki," and something in him gives because the way Tony says his name, rolls the syllables off his tongue, burnt by scotch, is a sound he wouldn't mind staying around for; if telling Tony about himself is what it takes, then maybe he can do it.

"I want…" he stops, because the words are so unfamiliar. Tony waits, steps a little closer. "I want…" The street light casts shadows just-so over Tony's features, while Loki is trying to figure out how to even say what he wants while he's consciously thinking about it, and he realizes _exactly_ what he wants in this moment.

He stumbles forward a bit, Tony automatically reaching to catch him, keep him from falling, and Loki grabs his shirt with one hand, fingers of the other twining into Tony's hair, kissing him. Tony makes this startled little noise, and then Loki feels his back hit to wall, the kiss all teeth clashing and lips, no elegance, just _want_.

Eventually they surface, and there's a little blood glistening on Tony's lip and Loki's lips feel bruised even with the booze dulling the pain. Tony grins at him, dark and sly, and asks, "Does this include wanting to come back to my place?" and underneath the dark and sly is hope, not certainty.

Loki just pulls him into another kiss.

XXXXXX

The bottle of bourbon is half-empty. Steve can't sleep, eyes half-closed, watching another movie.

XXXXXX

Tony has to half-carry Loki sometimes, and vice versa, the two slipping on ice and snow and fumbling. His lip stings, but it's a good sting, the kind of sting that he wouldn't mind more of. It's not far back to his place but it feels like it might take forever in the cold. He presses Loki against another building, slides his hands up his shirt over surprisingly lean muscle (not an ounce of fat on him), Loki burningly hot and pressing back against him.

"Fuck," Tony swears when they come up for air again and Loki's answering growl makes him _seriously_ contemplate just stripping him and fucking him right there on the sidewalk amidst snow.

XXXXXX

Steve has _almost_ fallen asleep and he hears the door bang open, Tony stumbling and slamming into the wall in the foyer.

XXXXXX

Loki's stifling giggles, which is not helping them be stealthy or Tony keeping himself from ravishing him, but the light in the living room is on and he can hear a movie, so he presses a finger to Loki's lips to try and get him to shush. And Loki's tongue flicks out and licks, mouth closing over and that is _absolutely obscene Jesus_. Green eyes are flashing in amusement at his reaction and the sound of the television lets him gather his wits a little and point to Loki's shoes, to stall him some.

He walks into the living room, expecting to see Steve sleeping on the couch (already unusual), and instead stops. Steve is awake, sitting up, blinking at Tony coming in. His eyes are wet, face dry, and there's a bottle of bourbon Tony didn't even know they _had_ on the coffee table, half-empty. The euphoria and desire fade as he looks at Steve and everything and realizes something is deeply _wrong_ here.

Steve hasn't really drank since Peggy died.

"It's not fair," Steve says, voice a quiet whisper.

"Steve?" Tony says cautiously, moving closer. "You okay buddy?"

Steve gives him this look full of hurt and resignation that stops him in his tracks.

"It's not fair," Steve repeats.

"What's not fair?" Tony asks, not knowing what to do, so he just crosses his arms, taps his chest, and tries to look like he's not tip-toeing around a bomb. Steve is looking at him and there's this little flash of anger burning his eyes before he starts to speak that makes Tony brace.

" _Him_. It's not fair. I've been here for _years_ , Tony, and you don't notice. We live together and you don't notice. I don't know what I expected, you've always been terrible at this, but _really_?" Steve laughs, voice cracking. "You've known him for _two months_ and already you do nothing but see him, talk about him, plan your time around when you'll see him next."

"You're talking about Loki," Tony whispers, suddenly understanding and he has no idea what to say. Sorry but you're my bro? That he's never seen Steve in that light and never will because Steve is a shoulder to lean on for support and family?

"Of course I'm talking about _Loki_ ," and Steve's voice is dripping with venom and anger and hurt.

"Steve, that isn't… this isn't anything to drink over. _I'm_ not anything to drink over. You deserve better anyway." It sounds hollow in Tony's ears.

"No, _no_ , Tony, _you_ deserve better than some college drop-out _waif_ that just shows up on my doorstep, who clearly barely knows what he's doing and probably would end up in a gutter somewhere if not for Natasha. You deserve better than some _fuck up_ , but you won't ever take it because _you always do the worst possible thing for yourself_ and you always have. I've been here for _fucking years_ ," Steve is roaring now, "and the first pretty twenty-five year old failure who snarks back at you and smiles pretty and you go head over fucking heels and ignore _everything_ that anyone has ever done. That's _why_ Pepper left, you always want the _worst_ thing you can find and take it and _fuck_ the rest!"

Silence, other than the background noise of the television. Steve is breathing hard, shaking, crying.

A door slams and Tony remembers. Loki.

Steve blinks at him, and the anger fades replaced by a growing look of horror.

"Tony, I…"

"No," Tony says, and he doesn't know what to do anymore and he doesn't care. This is too much. He can't handle this. He needs to be too many places at once, and it's all so much work. Steve _likes_ him. Like that. Loki is gone, whatever brief glimpse of the man underneath the mask hidden again.

"No," Tony says again. He grabs Steve's half-empty bottle of bourbon and locks himself in his room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat green eyes open, pupils blown wide, and pale fingers fumble into his bag. He's shivering a little and light is coming in through the window too brightly, too painful (like the hospital lights that night, Natasha holding one of his hands and everything hurting). He gets a syringe, gets the small ampule, and manages despite shaking hands to fill it. He flicks it, watches air bubbles slide up, makes sure to get them out with an easy practice. His mouth is dry and he feels like he's going to vomit and if he never sees another cocktail it will be too soon, but a few minutes later he relaxes; the syringe falls out of his hand.

**Chapter 6**  
He fumbles, drops his keys, scrabbles for them blindly, and manages to get the key in the door the second time despite how his hands shake and tremble. The apartment is dark, cold, Natasha must be out, and he hits his shin on the coffee table. He is gasping and crying and everything _hurts_.

He stumbles into his bedroom, tears open the dresser, looking—there. Needles and liquid happiness, sweet Morphia, who doesn't hurt him and betray him and make him have all these _stupid_ feelings, and he doesn't deserve any better.

Steve is right; Tony deserves more.

He shoves it into a bag, grabs a different shirt, and he doesn't have another coat (Tony has it, it is hanging in Tony's foyer), but it doesn't even matter.

 _Twenty-five year old failure_.

His phone rings in his pocket and he takes it out and throws it (it doesn't matter where, just _away_ ) before going out the door.

XXXXXX

Natasha frowns at her phone.

"He not answer?"

"Phone cut off mid-ring."

"Do you want to go check on him?"

Natasha frowns a little more, then shakes her head. She kisses Pepper and grins a little slyly.

"Probably is on a date. Maybe he's getting lucky. Maybe like someone else I know?"

Pepper laughs before they kiss, tumbling into bed.

XXXXXX

"Tony," Steve says, just outside the locked door. His head is pounding this morning and he feels _terrible_. And it's not just physical terrible—he can't get the sound of the door slamming out of his head and he hates himself for losing control, more for losing control when he was the one who had set them up on that first date.

He should have been prepared for Tony to fall in love.

"Tony, answer me."

There's the sound of something shattering against the door. Steve decides that's good enough and leaves to make himself coffee and take painkillers and try to figure out what he's going to say to Loki when the green-eyed waiter showed up to work at two.

XXXXXX

Natasha frowns a little when she feels how easily the key turns—no familiar weight of the lock turning—and pushes the door open. She needs to remind him again to lock it after coming home late; it's not unusual. She's humming a little, some chocolate babka from work in a box, coffee balanced on top.

"Loki, I've got your favourite," she calls, not really expecting an answer. She sets the babka box in the kitchen, gets her coffee to go check on him when she feels something crunch beneath her feet. Jumping back, she laughs a little—Loki's phone, broken from where it had smashed into the wall. Another phone down. Loki really _had_ gotten lucky; about damn time. She is grinning as she goes to check on him now because this is something their friendship has not had yet.

Loki's door is open, a dresser drawer still open. He's not in bed—in fact, his bed is still mostly made. She checks his closet, finds his duffel bag missing and her stomach clenches. Teeth starting to grind together, she digs through the drawer, knowing what she's looking for; it's not there. She dumps all the clothes on the floor, but that's all there are, clothes.

"Fuck," she swears and searches through the rest of the apartment, but Loki isn't there (not even curled under her bed in the corner like he had a few times when crashing and trying to detox _again_ and failing and she'd help him but she has no idea where he even gets his drugs).

Calendar. She checks it, and there's Loki's schedule, written in his neat curling script— _2 pm-11pm_. She takes a steadying breath; she'll call Steve then. Make sure he shows up to work. It's not the first time Loki has decided he needs to get away from the apartment, and he's very good at showing up to work.

It is okay. There is _nothing_ to panic over. Loki is fine.

XXXXXX

Cat green eyes open, pupils blown wide, and pale fingers fumble into his bag. He's shivering a little and light is coming in through the window too brightly, too painful ( _like the hospital lights that night, Natasha holding one of his hands and everything hurting_ ). He gets a syringe, gets the small ampule, and manages despite shaking hands to fill it. He flicks it, watches air bubbles slide up, makes sure to get them out with an easy practice. His mouth is dry and he feels like he's going to vomit and if he never sees another cocktail it will be too soon, but a few minutes later he relaxes; the syringe falls out of his hand.

Cat green eyes close.

XXXXXX

It's 2:15 and Steve keeps glancing at the clock.

"Anyone heard from Loki?" he asks, but no one has.

His phone rings in his office, and he darts in.

"Steve." Natasha's voice is cool, reserved.

"Natasha," he says, hope dashed. "What can I do for you?"

"Is Loki there?"

Steve feels his stomach sink.

"No. I was hoping it was him calling." He rubs the back of his neck.

 _Twenty-five year old failure_.

"If he shows up, call me, please." Still cold and cool.

XXXXXX

Tony groans as his phone rings, making his head feel like it's splitting in two. For a few blessed moments, he doesn't remember anything.

The phone is still ringing and he grabs it.

_Steve._

He remembers last night. He doesn't answer it, but silence barely returns before it's ringing again.

 _Steve_.

"What the fuck do you want?" Tony snarls.

"Has Loki gotten in touch with you?"

"No, fuck you." He nearly hangs up, but something stops him. "Why?" he asks grudgingly.

"Loki hasn't shown up to work."

"Yeah and I bet that makes you feel just _peachy_."

"Natasha called. I don't think he's gone home." Steve's voice is quiet, firm, familiar calm that grounds Tony whenever he's angry. Reaches through the rage and snags reason around the throat.

"What?" His mouth is dry and not just from the hangover.

"I don't think he went home. And he hasn't shown up to work."

"Yeah well, good riddance, since all I do is the _worst possible thing_."

There's silence on the other end and Tony takes the moment to look at his phone. 2:45.

"Tony, I'm sorry."

Tony grunts.

"I'll talk to you later."

Tony doesn't say goodbye, he just hangs the phone up and stares at the ceiling— _alone_ in his bed, which was not how things had looked like they were going to go before Steve decided it was the best possible time to tell him how he felt while drunk. Loki is gone. Maybe gone for good.

 _You always do the worst possible thing for yourself_.

He forces himself out of bed. Shower, water, painkillers. Then he was going to need to try and at least find Loki.

 _I don't think he went home. And he hasn't shown up to work_.

XXXXXX

"Natasha?" Pepper asks. "He'll turn up. He always does."

"In the hospital?"

Pepper frowns at how bleak Natasha's voice sounds.

"This isn't your fault. You were trying to help."

"I should have checked on him."

"He's not a child. He'll show up."

Natasha smiles, probably trying to be reassuring, but Pepper doesn't comment that she can see through it.

"I'll call Tony and find out what happened, okay? And no dismembering Tony till we find Loki and make sure he's okay, okay?"

Natasha smiles at her, and Pepper leaves her in the bedroom to try and get some sleep. She picks up her phone, waits on Tony to pick up. They've always done little things to make sure they knew each others numbers but never commented on it and never actually called each other. Pepper couldn't imagine an entirely Tony-free life; he had managed to become too much a part of it in that fiery relationship in college, too intense to easily get away from.

It's four in afternoon.

"Pepper?" Tony sounds confused, the sound of wind and traffic in the background.

"Anthony Stark, just what the hell happened last night?"

There's silence other than the sound of wind and traffic.

"Stark," she says, voice full of warning.

Tony tells her. His voice is raw and he's clearly just barely holding together, and she realizes he's outside because he's going to all the places he can think of that Loki had taken him on their dates, and the places Tony took Loki, because Tony doesn't know Loki or his habits or how Loki will just go and hide in some rundown hotel and fall apart alone and not out in public to think on the past. Because he doesn't know that all Loki wants to do is run away from his past even as it constantly reminds him and breaks him down _over_ and _over_ and _over_ , in every single little action that he takes.

She's a little jealous. Tony hadn't come running after her.

"Thank you," she says, and she means it. "I'll let you know if he turns up here, okay?"

"Thank you, Pep. You're amazing. I'll call you if I find him."

Pepper hangs up and stands there for a few minutes, because when she goes back Natasha is going to want to know what Tony said and she doesn't know how to tell her. It's her _job_ to tell things to people and to make it look pretty, but there is no silver lining for last night.

XXXXXX

"You motherfucking _bastard_."

Steve is nearly a foot taller than Natasha, bigger and stronger, but that doesn't stop her as she barges into his kitchen and punches him. The rest of the kitchen—and it's late, just one other on the line and the dishwasher—stop and stare, mouths hanging open. Steve grunts. When he tries to grab Natasha's fist, she uses her weight and body to grab his arm and flip him onto his back on the ground, keeping his arm in hand, one foot planting on his shoulder so that if he tries to move he's going to hurt himself badly.

"You fucking cocksucking fucker, _I fucking trusted you_. I could have called _anyone_ to get him a job, a change of pace, but I called _you_ because you've always been the rational one, the kind one, because _you_ would watch out for him and _you fucking said all that shit in front of him_."

"Natasha," he says, quietly.

She snaps her mouth shut, face closing off and tight even though her eyes are still flaring with rage. She steps off of him and lets go of his arm at the same time, just crosses her arms and glares at him as he pushes himself off the ground. He rubs his wrist, rolls his shoulder out, and all Natasha can think is 'good' because Loki still hasn't shown back up and other than one ATM withdrawal of cash, he's not using his debit card. Steve glances around his kitchen and waves for them to go back to work, then gestures for Natasha to come out back onto the loading dock with him.

"I'm not sorry," she says evenly, pulling back on the urge to break Steve in half because he's hurt Loki.

"I don't expect you to be. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I set them up because he made Tony smile like he hadn't in a while; I should have thought more about how I felt and I didn't. So I'm sorry. Really and truly sorry." Steve is looking at her when he says it, and she grinds her teeth a little before sighing. Unlike most people, she knows Steve means it when he apologizes. "And I'll tell him as much."

She looks down at the ground, runs a hand through her hair.

"You don't have to be sorry." He's got this self-disparaging smile on his face and Natasha relaxes the rest of the way.

"He's just… he's had it rough, okay?"

"Would you tell me, if I asked?"

Natasha frowns at him, debating. If Tony found Loki first, then someone would need to know what to expect, to not be surprised by the mess they are going to get.

"No," she says slowly. "It's not my story to tell. He'll tell it when he's ready to, and I won't take that from him. But." She pauses for emphasis, though she probably doesn't need it with Steve. "But. It's involved a lot of being told he's worth nothing and not good enough, for long enough that he _believes_ it. To his core. That his opinions and his wants don't matter at all. And when you went off on Tony, saying all the things he already believes, he agreed with you. It's why he left.

"And he doesn't want leaving to hurt, because he thinks it's true, but it does. I have literally never seen him that happy before he met Tony, and he's trying to walk away because he thinks it's what's best for Tony and that he doesn't deserve something that good."

Steve is frowning at somewhere just off the edge of the delivery dock.

"Call me if you find him." Natasha lets Steve keep staring off in the distance. She hops off the delivery dock, planning on just walking back around front to where her car is.

"We will."

XXXXXX

He can feel himself starting to crash, and gropes blindly through his bag.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three days. Three days, and Tony is feeling himself ready to give up. He doesn't go home after he leaves work three hours late, just checks at a few cafes and bookshops and all the little incidental places they had gone together, hoping to find Loki. But there's no smirk that's right and no whipcord thin, black-haired, green eyed man to go with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: drug use, past abusive relationship

**Chapter 7**  
Tony goes to work because work is a distraction and an escape. Because technology is something he can understand, and he can open it up and look at it and find what's wrong where and know exactly what part he needs to fix it. Because it's better than searching through all the places he and Loki had gone and feeling a stab of pain every time Loki isn't there. He goes because he can't take being at home with Steve and how Steve keeps trying to talk about that night.

He keeps his phone on, though. Just in case.

Pepper texts him to let him know that Loki still hasn't shown back up at the apartment; Natasha is leaving the door unlocked because apparently they found Loki's key and he wouldn't have any other way of getting in and they want to discourage him as little as possible if he does show up. She does this every day, usually around the same time. He texts her back to let her know he hasn't found Loki either.

He doesn't mention how it makes him feel, the panic and worry and terror that Loki is gone for good, how there's this Loki-shaped gap in his day that he doesn't know how to fill. He doesn't mention how he skims the news every day, making sure that a black-haired twenty-five year old hasn't turned up dead somewhere, suicide.

Three days. Three days, and Tony is feeling himself ready to give up. He doesn't go home after he leaves work three hours late, just checks at a few cafes and bookshops and all the little incidental places they had gone together, hoping to find Loki. But there's no smirk that's right and no whipcord thin, black-haired, green eyed man to go with it.

He's walking to the bar, his favourite bar, because it's the only place he hasn't checked. He didn't want to because it reminds him of that night (that glorious night that ended with a shriek of feedback), and because while he doesn't really know all that much about Loki, he can tell Loki doesn't drown his sorrows in alcohol like Tony does. Because Loki had not held his drink nearly so well as Tony and had been more interested in all the different varieties of flavour that Tony shoved into his hands.

There's a scuffle in the alleyway next to the bar. He starts to walk by because he's got enough problems of his own, thank you, but he glances over, just out of the corner of his eye (because he can't help it, and Steve would do the same thing he knows; neither of them can leave well enough alone). Three larger guys and one tall whipcord thin figure. The thin one is getting beaten thoroughly, but he keeps getting back up and spitting at them. He's laughing.

Tony knows that laugh.

"Everything okay here gentlemen?" Tony says, stepping into the alleyway, making sure they can see him. Making sure they can see the glint of the gun in his hand because right that second he has about zero tolerance for these three.

"Peachy, boss," the leader says, leading his group back into the bar through the back door.

Tony shoves the gun away (never has he been so relieved that Steve pesters him to carry it because _this city is dangerous Tony and I know you can shoot a gun_ ) and races over to where Loki is leaned against the wall, still laughing. It's not a good laugh—not his quiet chuckles or drunken giggles, not his full and rich and glorious laugh that only escapes when he's been surprised into it. It's broken, hysterical, and wet with unshed tears. Tony puts a hand to his chin, tilts his head so he can see; Loki's lip is bleeding and one of his cheeks beginning to blossom into a bruise, one eye already going black and half-closed.

"Loki," he breathes, whispering because he might be dreaming this.

Loki's pupils are so wide that Tony can barely see his irises. They focus on Tony, blink slowly, then Loki smiles like this is a familiar dream. He's shivering violently, just a thin long-sleeve shirt and some jeans between him and the cold. Tony tears his coat off and wraps it around Loki's shoulders.

"Tony," Loki says amiably, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

"Come on, Loki. Can you walk?" He steps back. Loki follows him with his eyes before he starts to try and follow with his feet. He slips almost immediately; Tony catches him.

"That's a 'no.'" Tony doesn't even hesitate, slips his arms behind Loki's knees and shoulders and picks him up. "Come on, upsy-daisy, arms around my neck, thank you." He's surprised by how _weightless_ Loki is for his height, almost terrified by it. "You're pretty light. And how much have you drank? There's no way you'd let me do this normally." He's talking because he needs to do something, anything, Loki is so cold in his arms. Loki doesn't smell like alcohol, but maybe he has some sort of magic to him that lets him avoid the scent of his body sweating it out—because he certainly smells like he hasn't bathed.

"Nothing," Loki murmurs, breath brushing against Tony's neck. His shoulders are starting to burn a bit as he carries Loki back to his home, and he's glad his favourite bar is just a few blocks away and not half the city.

"Where have you been? Why aren't you panicking over this?"

"This is a dream and when I wake up I'll just reach and find more and then be back to sleep. Sometimes it's right where I left off." Loki's voice is dreamy and matter-of-fact and it makes Tony's blood turn to ice. "You always show up, which is nice, since you won't be here when I wake. I don't expect I'll see you again, Anthony."

"This isn't a dream, Loki."

"Mmm. You said that last dream too."

Tony shuts up and tries to walk home faster.

XXXXXX

Steve feels like he's only just got home and is on his way to the bathroom to wash the kitchen smells off himself when someone starts to pound on the door like there's a fire. He hurries back to the small foyer area, opening the door right as Tony is about to kick again. In his arms, wrapped in his coat, is a gaunt and sleeping Loki, face utterly relaxed and a little drool slipping down the side of his face.

Steve blinks and just gapes for a second, but Tony just pushes past him and kicks the door closed.

"Where did you find him?" Steve asks, following Tony as he sets Loki on the couch.

"Bar."

Steve hesitates to draw nearer. He knows why Tony has been avoiding the house. He can't even blame him.

"Tony, I—"

"I know, Steve." Tony is looking at him now. He smiles, strained and aching but a smile. "Happens to the best of us. Clearly, since it happened to you."

The tightness and nervousness he's been carrying around since that night stops constricting his chest, just a little. Tony goes back to looking at Loki, hands fidgeting the way they do when he doesn't know what to do next.

"Bath," Steve suggests and Tony gives him this grateful glance that eases the tightness more. "You get the tub running, I'll carry him." Tony starts to open his mouth, so he just waits patiently for whatever argument comes, but then Tony actually shuts his mouth and goes down the hall to get the bath started. Steve is a little impressed that he didn't have to point out that he is the stronger of the two of them.

In the bathroom, they start to pull Loki's clothes off. Loki doesn't even stir. Tony hesitates about the boxers and Steve can't help but chuckle.

"We both know you two weren't coming back to cuddle."

" _Hey_ , we might have been. You don't know that." Tony licks his lips.

"Leave them on, Tony," Steve suggests.

They get Loki in the tub, and Steve notices something on the inside of his right arm and leans over, moving Loki's arm a little so he can see better. Bruises, tiny little bruises, all along the inside of his right arm. Some of them looked fairly new too.

"Track marks," Tony says, voice bleak.

Steve looks back at Tony.

"What do you want to do?"

"I… Steve, he's been doing some serious shit. I don't know what to do. I don't know what he wants to do." Tony seemed to be looking back over all the times Loki had ever been with him so Steve stays quiet. "I mean, what if he was trying to quit when we went to the zoo? And he canceled a date earlier this month, said he was sick. He sounded… he sounded bad, Steve."

"Tony, listen to yourself. What he wants? Do you honestly think he _wants_ to be entirely dependent on a drug to resemble anything approaching normal?" Tony looks horrified. "Let him stay here. We can keep him here, our schedules usually overlap so that someone will be here to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, we know there's nothing stashed here and the liquor cabinet locks. I can tell Natasha what's going on and get some of his clothes."

Tony is looking at him oddly, the way he looks at things when he's mentally taking them apart.

"What?" Steve asks irritably.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, three days ago you were… well, you were angry, Steve. And yelling. You made it pretty clear that you hate him."

"Tony, I don't hate him." Steve sighs. "It was out of line. I was drunk and… well, envious. He makes you happy, Tony, and that's what counts at the end of the day. Don't be miserable on my account, or think I'm going to strangle him while you're at work. He's not a… okay, I still think he's a bit of a failure because I never would have said it otherwise, but if what Natasha said was true, then he never really had much chance."

"Oh. Well. As long as it's okay."

Steve smiles a little at Tony.

"Yes. It's okay. You want to give your boyfriend a scrub down or should I?" As Tony's face goes scarlet, Steve laughs and shoos him out. "That's me then."

"I am not blushing, it's just _really_ warm in here!" Tony is almost fleeing.

"The great playboy, given a sense of modesty by his unconscious boyfriend."

"He's _not_ my boyfriend!" Tony protests weakly, head still sticking in the bathroom so he can try and get the last word.

"Okay, but you're definitely the blushing bride in this relationship."

Tony makes a noise, but Steve doesn't even look as he lathers up a washcloth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why. It's the only thing Tony wants to ask but he doesn't because he doesn't want whatever lie Loki will come up with. He asks it with his eyes and isn't surprised he gets no answer. Loki doesn't even look him in the face most of the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: drug use, past abusive relationship

**Chapter 8**  
He wakes and doesn't open his eyes at first, fumbling a hand across the bed, until he hits a wall. He licks his lips, opening his eyes only a little. The wall is a soft pale blue colour and definitely not the tacky beige of the hotel room. It takes him a few minutes to process this, that the bed is much softer and more comfortable. He's awake (at least he thinks he's awake, he feels awake, the craving is eating at his insides and he's sweating even though he doesn't feel warm at all), but this is very clearly not where he had been hiding. He tries to remember the night before, but it's like reaching for mist.

He looks the other way and freezes. Tony. The older man is asleep in a chair he'd pulled by the bed, snoring softly, a book face down on his chest. How the hell did Tony find him? He sits up and tries to ease out of the bed, so he can slip past and hopefully out and get away. Maybe Tony would get the hint this time—Loki is nothing good for him.

A hand grabs his wrist and he looks back at Tony and meets sleepy brown eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Tony asks.

Loki licks his lips and is going to answer when he realizes that Tony's hand is touching his skin, bare skin of his right arm, he's in a t-shirt (not his) and boxers, that _he's not wearing his clothes_ , and Tony can see his arm, _has_ seen, because someone had to have changed him and in that moment he has never hated himself so much. He snatches his arm away, holds it to his chest, and looks away. He can't look Tony in the eye and he's shaking uncontrollably.

He never wanted Tony to know this.

"Loki."

He edges backward, until he can't go farther back, something—a dresser—pressing into his back. It feels like he's stepped slightly out of time with everything and his heart is racing and all he wants to do is tear open his veins and bleed until he's clean because maybe that will keep Tony from hitting him for this weakness he's found, maybe that will keep him from shouting and screaming and telling Loki how utterly _worthless_ he is.

"Loki, look at me. Please." Tony's voice sounds like he's about to break; Loki can't help but look up. Tony doesn't look angry or frustrated. Just sad. "What do you want for breakfast?"

It takes him off-guard and he can't stop staring. Where's the disappointment and disgust? Maybe he just doesn't know what it looks like on Tony's face?

"Breakfast?" Loki echoes, voice barely above a whisper, afraid that if he makes one wrong move that everything will change.

"Yeah. Breakfast. You know, that thing you eat when you wake up?" There's a melancholy smile on Tony's lips.

"I… Not hungry. I want to go back to sleep. Leave me alone." He's watching, waiting on the _something_ next.

"Then go back to sleep. I'll get you some pancakes." Tony knows he's lying, knows that Loki could eat a horse, but he's not yelling at Loki for it. He's… he's _humouring_ Loki and Loki watches Tony get up and walk out of the room before he goes back to the bed. He buries himself in the blankets, curls into a pillow. At first it's just tears, but then the sobs come, heavy and breath-stealing and making his entire body ache and all his bruises feel like they have bruises on top of them.

XXXXXX

 _Why_. It's the only thing Tony wants to ask but he doesn't because he doesn't want whatever lie Loki will come up with. He asks it with his eyes and isn't surprised he gets no answer. Loki doesn't even look him in the face most of the time.

XXXXXX

"I'm sorry," Steve tells Loki, later, when Loki is nothing more than a tiny curled up ball on the couch. Steve is almost certain the only reason Loki is there is because he's feeling too sore to move from where Tony had set him down last night. Tony had gotten a box of tissues for him before leaving for work that morning, but it's already half-empty.

Loki looks over at him, eyes half-glazed, pupils dilated; his face glistens with sweat and hair hangs lank around his face. His black eye is starting to go deep purple, but it isn't swollen shut anymore. He licks chapped lips before speaking.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. For saying you're a failure. You aren't, and it was out of line. And ugly of me, especially when I was the one encouraging you two to go out in the first place."

Loki just stares at him before letting his head drop back onto the arm of the couch.

"Okay."

Steve gets up to go to the kitchen to make something for Loki to eat. Soup, barley soup. He starts digging through the pantry and cabinets.

XXXXXX

Tony usually ends up sleeping wherever Loki sleeps. It's hard sometimes; sometimes he gets back and Loki is angry and tense and biting and can't sleep, won't sleep the entire night until literally an hour before Tony needs to get up and go into work. Sometimes Loki just tries to ignore him and hides under blankets and cries, and Tony will just sit there next to him, let him know he's there, one hand gently rubbing his back through the blanket. He tells work he's helping with a sick family member to explain why sometimes he's late when Loki is a huddled mess in the bathroom floor, unable to hold anything down, dry retching until the nausea passes, occasionally breaking down and begging Tony for more morphine in between the retching and sobbing; Tony won't leave him like that.

"How is he?" Pepper asks on the phone midway through a week Tony doesn't think he's going to forget any time soon.

"Twenty pounds lighter and calling me a torturer," Tony answers, because it's what he feels like when Loki looks at him with green eyes begging for a shot.

"How are you?" Pepper asks.

"Tired," and it's the truth but he laughs a little to try and make it not sound that way.

XXXXXX

Steve isn't quite sure how, but Tony had convinced Loki to eat something this morning, had him waiting in the kitchen when Steve got up. Loki just sits on the bar stool at the counter, head in his arms—Steve can count his ribs pressing tight against the flesh, see every twitch of muscle; if Loki had had fat it is gone now. It's been five days now, and it was sometime last night when they finally stopped having to camp near the bathroom or a bucket.

Steve makes him oatmeal with brown sugar, butter, and tiny little sugary dinosaurs because anything heavier is a risk at this point, but Loki deserves something a little sweet. Loki gets himself up, propping his chin on one arm, fiddling with the bowl of oatmeal, stirring it and getting spoonfuls and letting it drop back down, occasionally actually taking a bite. Steve watches him out of the corner of one eye while he makes himself a bowl of cereal.

"Why are you doing this?" Loki's voice is a little hoarse; when Steve got home last night Loki had been screaming at Tony about how much he wanted to die and why wouldn't Tony just _let him already_ before bursting into sobs and running off to curl up in a tiny ball underneath the guest bed.

"Because Tony loves you."

"But you hate me." It's so matter-of-fact how he says it. Steve is left at a loss for a moment.

"I don't hate you, Loki," he finally says. "I'm a little envious of you, but I don't hate you. I… I love Tony; it's a shame that I don't make him that happy. But you do, and I do want to see him happy, even if it isn't with me." He feels better, actually saying it out loud for once.

Loki drops his spoon into his oatmeal, the dinosaurs half-melted colourful blobs, and pushes it away to set his head back in his arms.

"Tony doesn't love me. He loves the idea of me, he loves the person he met who hadn't been clean for nearly two years."

Steve just stares at Loki, dumbfounded. He has to remind himself that despite being able to eat (even a little), despite being past the worst of it, Loki's still crashing, still getting everything out of his system and that it's not just his body that has to detox. He has to resist the urge to shake Loki in an attempt to get him to see reason.

Tony might not know much about Loki, but the same is true in reverse.

"Loki," Steve keeps his voice level, calm, gentle. "Tony doesn't just give up his sleep and bed and comfort for every single drug-addicted person he happens to interact with. If he did we would probably need to just open a clinic. He _loves_ you, or at least wants to love you, if you let him. He's having to fight against every urge to just give you what you crave because that's the easy way out and Tony has nearly always taken the easy way out. Tony doesn't fight, Loki. He hasn't, not until he carried you in here five days ago. He hasn't said it, because he's not very good at that, but he _loves_ _you_."

Loki doesn't say anything in response, so Steve just takes a bite of his frosted mini-wheats.

"Eat some more of your oatmeal before it gets cold, Loki," he says with a sigh, not able to tell if he's getting through at all.

XXXXXX

The opening line of _The Star-Spangled Banner_ hadn't even finished when Natasha dropped what she was doing and answered the call.

"What's up, Steve?"

"Natasha, I need to come home, _please_. I can't stay here anymore, _please_ come get me. Please." His voice breaks some on the last word.

"Wait, Loki? Is everything okay? What happened?" Natasha readjusts the phone. Between Pepper and Steve she's kept a pretty good grasp on what's been happening and latest updates suggested Loki was mostly out of the woods. This does not sound out of the woods.

"They're both crazy and I don't know what to do and _please come get me_." Loki's sobbing, and she can just imagine him curled up in a corner of a room, knees hugged to his chest and crying.

"Okay. Okay. Hush. It'll be okay Loki. Get cleaned up and I'll be there soon, okay?"

"O-okay," Loki sniffles.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's leaving, Tony. Or trying to. Are you going to let him? After all of this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: drug use, past abusive relationship

**Chapter 9**  
Things in the proposal are going well. The client seems interested in Tony's work, everyone is smiling and nodding in the short little break they're taking, and some pretty blonde that about two months ago Tony would have taken out and then to his bed is chatting him up when his phone starts to buzz inside his coat pocket. He flicks a smile her way, holding a finger up, pulling the phone out.

 _Steve_.

He can feel Odin's one good eye on him across the room as he excuses himself and steps towards a quiet corner of the room by the window.

"Is everything okay?" he asks first.

"You need to be here."

"Really? I'm in the middle of a proposal. Are you sure that it can't wait?"

"He's leaving, Tony. Or trying to. Are you going to let him? After all of this?"

Tony feels like he's standing on air and in a minute gravity's going to catch up and he'll come crashing down. His stomach sinks like lead. He wants to tell Steve he can't do it, that he can't come, that he's needed here. That his job rides on this, even though he knows it doesn't, not really. He's only here because they need someone to answer the really technical questions—if they even come up. He just wants something else to blame when he can't stop Loki from leaving him.

"I'll see what I can do," Tony murmurs into the phone and hangs up before Steve can reply. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, turns around, and Odin's already there.

"Emergency, Stark?"

"Uh, yes sir." He swallows; it's scary how that bear of a man can move around the room so silently. "I need to go. Someone needs me." As he says it, he realizes it's true. Loki does need him, as much as Tony needs Loki to stay around. No one's ever really _needed_ Tony before, just wanted. He lifts his chin up some, ready to fight Odin over his leaving if he has to.

"I expect he's very important to you."

"Uh. Sir?" Tony blinks, suddenly confused. How much exactly does Odin know about what's going on?

"Get out of here, Stark." Odin goes to looking out the window.

"Will do, Sir." He walks out of the room. As the boardroom door shuts behind him, he pauses.

 _Loki Odinson_.

Oh.

He shakes it off and sprints down the hallway to the elevator.

XXXXXX

"—I just didn't know what was so interesting about the show. Natasha! So good to see you!" Steve is talking fast and brightly and grinning his forced grin that says 'oh God, please guide me through this, I do not know what I'm doing.'

"Steve," she says, stepping inside and they hug briefly.

"Tony?" She whispers.

"En route," he replies, equally quiet, and they pull away.

Loki's looking absolutely stricken in the hallway, a bag Natasha had loaned him stuffed full of clothes by his feet, and he looks at her desperately, hopefully, before Natasha gets tackled in a flying hug and she just holds him for a few minutes. He's all bone underneath his clothing that hangs too loosely, and she smooths his hair down gently with one hand.

"Hot chocolate?" Steve asks, that bright desperation back in his voice but it's eased off a little. He knows Natasha's going to help him keep Loki here.

"That sounds lovely," she says as Loki steps back to stay 'no.' He gives her this look like she's betrayed him and she smiles at him reassuringly. "Especially if you have mini marshmallows."

"Let's go find out." Steve goes into the kitchen, leaving them alone in the foyer for a moment.

"Natasha?" Loki's voice is a half-broken question hanging in the air.

"Just a little while longer," she replies and heads for the kitchen, not waiting on him to say anything else. Tony has done something she knows she never could; she will give the man a chance to fight.

In the kitchen, Natasha and Steve talk and Loki just sits there, slumped in a chair at the table. She notes how he fidgets, how his eyes dart around, and he's wringing his hands. His eyes, though, are the clearest that she's ever seen them, even if he does occasionally tremble a little. Loki, clean. It's a novel concept and one she wants to get used to.

The hot chocolate gives them something to do with their hands. Steve is nervous and preparing something for an early lunch; he would move like that when the rush got heavier when they worked together. He always did make the best staff meals when he was freaking out about a large party coming in.

The front door opens. Loki starts up like he's been shocked, looks at Natasha pleadingly. Natasha doesn't look at him, sips her hot chocolate serenely and notes the way Steve's knife cuts down a little harder.

Tony's home.

XXXXXX

It dawns on him, when Natasha doesn't even jump up or act surprised about the door opening and Tony rushing into the kitchen, that this was planned. That Natasha has planned this and somehow Steve figured out he called her and they're all _conspiring_ and _insane_. He starts to push himself up, planning on walking back to the apartment across town if he has to; Natasha puts a hand on his wrist, runs her thumb along it.

"Sit down, Loki." She looks at him, eyes soft. She hasn't betrayed him; she thinks this is what's best. He doesn't know what to do, but he trusts her because Natasha had helped save him before. He can sit through this… this _fiasco_ if she thinks it's best. She doesn't ask him to do things that will hurt him, not knowingly.

XXXXXX

Tony looks at all of them, feeling breathless. The red-head at the table, with her hand on Loki's wrist, he doesn't know but he can guess it's Natasha, Pepper's other half. Steve's cooking, but he feels a fond rush for the man anyway because Steve cooks when he's nervous but he's managed to keep Loki here. The resolve he'd felt in the board room, talking to Odin, is suddenly a heavy weight on his chest and making it hard to breathe.

"Tony," Steve sighs, brightly. "This is Natasha. Natasha, Tony."

"Pleasure," Natasha offers, and they shake hands before Tony sits down at the table, across from Loki. Loki isn't looking up at him, body totally rigid.

Tony doesn't know what to say. Tony usually is full of words, words come to him and tumble out and he throws them about like a shield. His entire way home he has thought of words he will say, but now, here, Loki across from him, they are gone, deserters every last one. He has never done this before, tried to convince someone they should stay.

The silence stretches out like a too-thin wire about to snap and take everything with it.

Tony puts his hands on the table together and looks down at the wood grain. He needs to speak. Now. Say something, anything. All of his arguments and pleas that he had come up with are too empty.

"Loki, do you want to leave?" He looks up to watch Loki.

Loki doesn't answer, just sinks a little more into his chair and curls a little more around his mug of hot chocolate.

"Because," Tony pauses, licks his lips, grasps for something eloquent. "Because I would like it if you didn't. Because I…" the words stumble a little and his chest is too tight "I would like you to stay. I…" He grips his hands together to stop them from shaking and closes his eyes for a moment. _Fuck it_.

"I love you, Loki. I think you're amazing and wonderful, I think you're brilliant. You're smart and sharp and know things that I don't know and don't think I'll ever grasp. I don't want to get up and deal with a day where you aren't around. I like seeing your smile, when it's small and private and you don't think I notice. Your laughter, all of it. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. This sounds so stupid, and I know you're scared. _I'm_ scared. I'm terrified. I'm terrified I'm going to blink and you'll be gone, I'm terrified you'll disappear again and I won't be able to find you again. I told you I want to know everything and that hasn't changed; I still do, I haven't even learned an iota of an iota of what it is you love and what you like because you don't tell me, but that's okay too because I'm willing to wait because that means you'll stay that much longer, that means there'll be that much more for me discover as we go. Steve's right, I do do terrible things, _a lot_ , all the time, but you are not one of them—Loki, you're one of the best things that has ever walked into my life and I don't want you to walk out because you're scared and you think you don't deserve something good for once, because if anyone deserves something good it's _you_. You've changed me or I wouldn't be here right now, and I'm begging. Loki, please. Please don't go. I can't stop you, I can't make you; just, just there's a place for you _here_ , with me, and I don't want to lose you again. I want to try, I want this to work, and I've never felt that way about anything in my life." His hands are shaking and his voice is thick with unshed tears. "I love you, Loki. Stay, here. With me."

His eyes have gone to the table, because if Loki is going to reject him, he doesn't want to see it. His heart aches; he never knew words could hurt so much when torn out this way. He takes in a ragged breath as he hears clothes rustling and closes his eyes. A tear slips out and splashes on his hands.

Soft, thin fingers brush it away and rest on them, gently. Tony looks up, and meets green eyes that are deep as the universe, reflecting the same terror Tony feels.

"I'll try," Loki whispers.

Tony catches Loki's hand between his own, and kisses it softly.

"That's all I ask."

XXXXXX

There's a photo on a mantle piece from New Years—they are all there in this big group hug, Loki in the center smiling, a sort of confused smile that suggests he's still not certain how this has happened. Tony has an arm around his waist, and is leaned in to whisper something into his ear with a sly smile. Steve looks harried, like he's just stopped cooking for a second because they want the photo; Pepper and Natasha are both clearly already drunk. Next to it is a diploma, awarded to one Loki Odinson in music education. And next to it, another picture. This one is a small, private moment; two silhouettes framed by the sunset, watching it. Content.

On the fridge hangs a calendar, a date circled at the end of the month in red; Tony's handwriting is cramped into the little space: _12 mth clean. 11 mth sober. Dinner @ 6_.


End file.
